Star Fox: Oblivion

Authors Notes

Hey guys, I just wanted to make this short and sweet so we could get right into the story (too late :P)

This is my first attempt at a novel length fan fiction, expect it to be complete within 1 to 2 months since I am one of those fast writers.

Rating: M

Grisly Violence

Explicit Language

Sexual Content

Prologue: A Mistake

I'm just as lost as you
And probably more confused
So fucking far from perfect
My mind wrecked from abuse

There's something fucking wrong
When war takes sons and daughters
Our lambs misled to slaughter

War!
Clenching the fists of dissent
Lies!
Clenching the fists of dissent
Fear!
Clenching the fists of dissent
Change!
Clenching to hope

Machine Head - "Clenching The Fists Of Dissent"

A brown furred dog sat idly, waiting for Friedrich Sturm, leader of the infamous terrorist group; The Great Line, to leave his hideout in the outskirts of Prall. The buildings were run down and probably hadn't been renovated for many years, making it a good place to make a quick getaway. Ulrich Wurz, the head chairman of the Untied Council of Besdolore had been captured by The Great Line and was in week three of being held hostage. The remaining members of the council were able to find his whereabouts, which in turn, ended up being exactly where their leader was stationed.

Thinking they could kill two birds with one stone, they hired two mercenaries; a German Shepherd by the name of Otto von Hiedrich, and Michael Drescher, a Greyhound. Their mission was to eliminate Sturm and rescue Wurz.

Otto had fortified himself in a half-burnt bedroom, looking over the compound that Wurz and Sturm were located inside. The medium sized building seemed abandoned to the normal passerby, but inside was a much different story. Ulrich was deep within the walls experiencing unimaginable atrocities. It was a miracle he was still alive (confirmed by videos sent from the group themselves).

Otto looked over toward the compound again, seeing that there were only a few men guarding the outside, probably grunts. They could be easily disposed of without much of a hassle. The hound eyed a passing vehicle in the street below, putting his paw into his coat. As it passed by without stopping, he let his grip on whatever was inside his coat go. Otto took this moment of calmness to put on his headset, and cue his mic.

"This is Otto speaking, do you copy?" There was a momentary silence over the radio, followed by a faint crinkle of feedback.

" Michael Drescher, I hear you loud and clear." A Germanic sounding voice replied back

"Good, are you in position?"

"Affirmative, we won't let Sturm get away this time." The sound of a clip being loaded could be heard on the other end.

"What does he look like?"

"Very much like Ulrich and I." There was another pause. "Odds are he's going to be dressed like Wurz, as to make any attempts on his life more difficult. They look very similar, but the one difference is the grey patch of fur on Sturm's forehead."

"10-4."

Otto opened his trench coat and grabbed a large gray sniper rifle, and a mount. After attaching the mount, he placed it on the ground and checked through the scope to make sure it was positioned correctly. After some readjusting, everything was in place. Now, came the wait…

It was roughly ten minutes before their targets were spotted. Sturm was wearing a navy blue vest, black slacks, and matching combat boots. The gray patch on the greyhound's forehead was clearly visible. Behind him was Ulrich Wurz, wearing the same attire. Otto found it quite peculiar that Wurz looked rather calm and collected. Perhaps he was forced to in order to blend in better with the others. A handful of guards followed the two outside and began to converse. Something wasn't making sense here, and Otto was going to find out soon enough.

"Okay, I see them. Make sure you get a good mark on him." Drescher crackled.

Otto set the scope clear on his forehead, and waited for the right moment, any sudden movement could put the bullet into the head of someone else, or miss completely.

"Come on…" He mumbled to himself as his tail stood straight at attention. He seemed to be trembling far too much to keep a smooth shot. "Fuck!" He stifled. "Drescher, I need you to take the shot for me."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't keep the damn thing straight." His irritation came out loud and clear.

"There isn't a clear shot from my end, you're gonna have to make due with what you have." He pounded the floor in frustration. His paw wouldn't stop twitching, it was as though he didn't want him to go through with this. "Fine…" He got back up toward the window and overlooked the scene again. He could see that there was an open shot on Sturm, he seized the opportunity and took a deep breath. The sight was perfectly set on him now, his sweaty paw pulled the trigger, letting out a deafening bang as the sniper cocked back.

The bullet sped through the air at a blistering pace before making contact with the greyhound's skull. A fist sized opening appeared in the entrance and exit wound, he had no time to react. He was dead before he could even hear the gunshot. Blood sprayed onto the pavement like a pressurized hose. More splattered around the body as it hit the ground. Wurz immediately ducked behind a guard as they began to fire at the location of the shot.

The bullets began to ricochet all around him, one ended up digging itself into the dog's cheek below his right eye, making him yelp in agony. Luckily for him, it entered through the side and not directly so he would recover. It still hurt like hell though.

"I did it Michael, he's dead." He said, slightly gurgled from the blood flowing down his throat. There was a moment of silence, as he heard the guards approaching the building.

"Well done Otto…" Drescher said in a menacing tone. "You've just assassinated Ulrich Wurz..."